LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

%p.- ^mm¥ fij*;^-- 



UNITED STATES OF AMEEIflA. 



-- 19,^< 




IN THP. GOLD 



From Gold to Grey. 



Poems and Pictures of Life and Nahtre. 

BY y^ 
Mrs. Mary d/brine, 

AUTHOR OF "mother's SONGS," " GRANDMA'S ATTIC TREASURES," " PAPA'S LITTLE DAUGHTERS,' 
"FOUR LITTLE FRIENDS," "HITHER AND THITHER," ETC. 



ALLAN BARRAUD, 

W. H. J. BOOT, 

E. F. BREWTNALL, R.W.S., 

FRANK DADD, R.L, 

M. ELLEN EDWARDS, 

W. BISCOMBE GARDNER, 



ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

H. GIACOMELLL 
MARY L. GOW, R.I., 
W. HATHERELL, 
ALICE H.^VERS, 
DAVIDSON KNOWLES, 
E. BLAIR LEIGHTON, 



J. NASH, 

W. H. OVEREND, 
H. M. PAGET, 
WILLIAM SMALL, 
G. L. SEYMOUR, 
A. STOCKS, R.L 




'cOP5f«iG/i'^<i'^ ^ 



CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited 

NEW YORK, LONDON, PARIS &■ MELBOURNE. 



[/^l 






CorVRlGHT, 1 886, 
By O. M. Dunham. 




A U Righ is Reserved. 



PRESS OF HUNTER t 



r 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




CONTENTS. 



feiOr)ier)ls — (continued). 





PAGE 


Pretly Juliette 


• • 4«. 49 


Saved! 


■• 50. S> 


Grandpa and his " Dear " 


•• 52> 53 


' ' Forjesits' Sake, Amen / " 


■• 54.55 


The New Lesson 


■■ 56. 57 


The Brook's Last Song ... 


■■ 58, 59 


The Three Kitties 


60 


Waiting for ^' Mother" 


61 


My Margaret ! 


• 62, 63 


My Ship — my Captain 


.. 64, 6s 


Primrose Time ... 


.. 66, 67 


Th anksg iving Day 


.. 68, 69 


The Sweet June Time 


70, 71 


Spring-time 


72. 73 


My Boyhood's Home 


■■ 74, 75 


The Song of the Sportsman 


•• 76, 77 


The Noon Recess .. 


.. 78,79 


At the Twilight Hour 


.. 80, 81 


In the Park 


82 


Why the Daisies are White 


83 


My April Love 


.. 84, 85 


Out on the Sands 


.. 86, 87 


The Old Barn 


88 


The Water-Lily's Story 


59 \ 


Butterflies ( 


^0 \^ 


Desalate! 91 


A 


Love's Contradictions ... Q2, 93 ,^ 


r\- 



\V 



w: 






XI 



^^ 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 









'^p'fs 





fei 0i)ter)is — [contimted). 



Two 


94, 95 


e Barren Tree 


96,97 


pie Blossoms ... 


9S 


ster Lilies 


99 


■ Bonnie Laddie 


100, lOI 


\ci Well Enough Alone " 


102, 103 


it ty Phyllis 


104, 105 


The Test of the Daisy Leaves 


106, 107 


Twilight on the Beach 


108, 109 


The Matin Bells 


no 


The Ataakening 


Ill 


7'he Trysting Hour 


112, 113 


The Cascades 


"4, "S 


The Sower 


116, 117 


The Harvest Sheaf 


118 


At Eventide 


119 


The Fresh Air Fund ... 


120, 121 


''''Heaviness Endureth but for 


a Ntght, 


Joy Cometh in the Morn 


ng" ... 122 


The L iving Spring 


123 


The Four- Leaf Clover .. 




Going After the Cows . . 





CONTENTS. 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 





'>y*^\^'' 



From Gold to Grey. 



JUTS morning's glory gilds the sky, 
^ And merrily the hours go by 
Towards noon, whose radiance sheds its glow 
From heaven's dome o'er all below ; 
As softly towards the set of sun 
The shadows gather one by one, 
To lie, at last, all tenderly 
And lovingly o'er land and sea ; 
So do life's days — from Go/d to Grey — 
Glide, 'neath life's changing skies, away 
From joy to sorrow ; smiles to tears ; 
From peace to turmoil ; hopes to fears : 
And back again (as wakes the dawn, 
From Grey to Gold, when night is gone), 
To taste of joys new-born again ; 
Perchance to fade once more in pain. 
Ah ! whatsoe'er our days may hold 
Of joy or sorrow. Grey or Gold, 
Counting our blessings one by one 
From dawn until the set of sun. 
We're sure to find more Gold than Grey 
To light our journey o'er the way. 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




Qatherinq Flowers ijm JVIay 



^piTELCOME, welcome, beautiful May ! 
^«{^ Welcome thou, and thy garlands gay ! 
The earth is glad with thy sunny smile, 

And sweet with the breath of new-mown hay. 
Lavish of all thy glory, thou : 

See ! thou hast flung thy treasures down 
Till the earth is gay in her new-found wealth, 

And jubilant in her floral crown. 

Fairer thou art, oh. beautiful May ! 
Than even thy sister, whose reign is o'er, 
The blue-eyed April, who wept and smiled, 
And softened the earth so cold before. 



She sang of thee, and our hearts were glad 

With thoughts of the joys sweet May would 
bring ; 

We longed for thee and thy merry hours, 

Oh, thou most beautiful month of spring ! 

There are sounds of pleasure o'er all the earth ; 

There are sweet birds singing in bush and tree ; 
There are laughing voices, and songs of mirth, 

And joyous faces to welcome thee. 
There are busy fingers in every field 

Plucking thy treasures rich and rare ; 
Oh, May ! so lovingly bountiful. 

Welcomes must greet thee everywhere. 




GATHERING FLOU'ERS IN MAY. 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




The merry birds on twig and branch 
Trill out the news with fluttering wings, 
While Robin seeks the early fruit, 
Impatient watching the green shoots 
And the glad tidings gaily sings. 

The brook, grown weary of restraint. 
Has burst its weakened bonds at last, 
And rushing down the mountain side. 
Lends its fresh influence far and wide, 
And Winter's icy reign is past ! 



AFTER THE SHOWER. 




ftFTEF( THE ShOWEF(. 



*7|Jf TENDER sky— half tears, half smiles ; a sobbing breeze ; green meadows where 
j^[ A thousand diamonds glittering lie ; and in the soft, sweet summer air 
The fragrance of reviving flowers, which lift their drooping heads again. 
And the sweet scent of woodland ferns — after the welcome summer rain. 
From every bush, and shrub, and tree, the quivering raindrops hang and fall ; 
And twittering birds their wet wings shake, and plume themselves afresh, and call 
Each other from the woodland groves ; while the glad earth grows bright again, 
And sunshine floods the landscape o'er — after the welcome summer rain. 
With sense of life renewed and fresh, the world seems' fairer in our eyes. 
And Nature, jubilant and new, smiles 'neath the light of joyous skies. 
Back to the fields the farmer goes, and toil suspended, once again 
Goes on, with vigor twice renewed — after the welcome summer rain. 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




FHOM GOLD TO GREY. 




CUPID'S " HA K VEST" 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




What hap Becojvie of the Beautiful Day? 



^pTHAT has become of the beautiful day? 

Where have its bright hours gone ? 

It seems but a moment since, rosy and gay, 

The glad summer morning was born. 
And now the soft shadows of evening are here ; 
The day slips away, and the night cometh near. 

How have the glad moments gone, do we ask ? 

What has become of our day ? 
Ask the warm sunshine, whose golden rays fell 

And stole the bright hours away. 
Ask the soft clouds that far up in the sky 
Helped the dear hours so lazily by. 



Go ask the birds in the stately old elms, 

Who sang away the sweet hours. 
Look for the bees, and perchance they will tell 

Who idled the day 'mongst the flowers. 
And what say the leaves of the grand forest trees, 
Which have whispered and frolicked all day with the: 
breeze 

Oh ! who can tell how the bright day has gone ? 

'Midst sunshine, and shadow, and play, 
'Midst humming of bees, and the singing of birds, 

Hath vanished the beautiful day. 
But the peace, and the joy which it gave to my heart 
Thro' clouds and thro' sunshine shall never depart. 



THE EVENING REST. 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




But brown-eyed Nora — ah ' 
^.f^^^'^v my heart 

Ran mad with joy when 
\ i^ she came near. 



Of this and that ere long we 

talked, 

Till Nora, in a sober fit, 

On " Reaping that which we 

have sown," 

Began to moralize a bit 



THE HARVEST TIME. 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




A RECIPE FOR SUMMER. 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




YESTERDA Y—TO-DA Y. 




I'ROM GOLD TO GREY. 



Old Kinq Winter'^ 3oNq. 



ek H, I am the friend of the girls and boys ! 
' I am the friend they love 

When there's plenty of frost on the earth below. 

And plenty of sunshine above ! 
To me they look for the frozen pond. 

All ready for skate and slide ; 
To me they turn with their painted sleds 
For a coasting hill so wide. 





1 1 I I ill 1 iji II 1 fir and near, 

When the bells are ringing a chime 
Of the merriest music in all the world, 

As a tribute to winter time. 
If I kiss the cheeks of the lasses, so 

That they tingle awhile, what then? 
I must have my share of the fun before 

The summer shall come again. 



I deck the trees with a fringe so bright 

That they glisten in sun or shade ; 
And I scatter my snowflakes in the air 

Till they fill each valley and glade. 
And climbing up to the mountain-top. 

Each shrub and tree I crown. 
And I spread the whitest of covers o'er 

The ground so barren and brown. 



I'm hoary-headed and old, I know, 

But the boys don't care for that ; 
They're glad to welcome the jolly old king 

Who wears the snow-brimmed hat. 
For I am the friend of the young and strong. 

And a merry old soul am I, 
When there's plenty of frost on the ground below, 

And over it all blue sky. 



OLD KING WINTERS SONG. 







\»t> -y 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




MARGUERITE 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 



UjMRE^T. 

WLL winter long the snow has lain, 

Like the wings of a brooding dove, 
Over the spot where baby lies ; 
And they chide the tears in my longing eyes, 

And whisper, " She doubts God's love." 
Is it because I doubt ? Ah, no ! 

But only a mother's heart 
Can measure the depths of a mother's grief, 
Or welcome the tears that bring relief, 

Tho' they may not heal the smart. 



>=^ 
^ 



They point above, and talk to me 

Of the beautiful city there, 
Where many a freed soul finds its rest 
Nestling close on the Saviour's breast, 

For ever free from care. 
But there are so many within His arms ! 

And mine are so. empty now ! 
My baby is wearing a crown, I know, 
But she wore the crown of my love below. 

With my kisses on her brow. 




UNHEST. 



But, oh ! do you think my little child, 

As she entered the " golden gate," 
There knew her father who long ago 
Went away from his home below 

For us to watch ind wait' 
I placed a kiss on my bab) s lips 

Before the angels came 
To send a messi^e to hmi I tried 
And she, our little one, smiled and died 

Lisping her father s name 




And I — I sit with my empty arms, 

And empty, desolate heart : 
I may have needed the chastening rod. 
For life was too bright a thing ; but God 



Has taken the brightest part, 
\nd naught but shadow for me 
remains ; 
And yet — and yet, I know 
That both my treasures, so far abo\-e. 
Will plead with Him, in His wondrous love, 
To light my path below. 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 



A 3UMJVIER AfTEI^NOOJM. 



DAISIED meadow lying fair under a summer sliy ; 
''— Sweet ferns and grasses bowing low to the zephyrs hurrying by ; 
Over the woodland hangs the mist of the recent summer shower, 
And the bees and butterflies idly flit through every wayside flower. 




;iv KJ. V Over the quiet fields I come, watching with dreamful eyes. 

, „'5|r j'^ The clouds that fleecily, lightly sail over the tender skies. 

Watching the swallows stretch their wings in the wonderful 



And my heart soars up with a thankful prayer for the Father's 
beautiful love. 



The lobm sits on the maple bough, singing his mate a song, 

\\ hile little by little the day declines, and the shadows are growing long ; 

And down the lane the cattle stray, cropping the tender grass. 

While, swinging her sun-bonnet in her hand, follows the farmer's lass. 



I hear the ring of the scythe and hone in the fields not far away, 
And the merry hum of the mower's song, as he makes his fragrant hay. 
Oh, day so fair from the Maker's hand ! oh, skies so soft and blue ! 
Can thoughts be other than true and good when born from such as you ? 



A Sr.V.VEA' AFTERNOON. 




36 



FROAI GOLD TO GREY. 




At the SEAgOf^ OF THANKSGIVIfjq 



^H! Charity, dear messenger, 

From heaven's courts descend, 
And to our earth-born hearts the gift 

Of thy sweet influence lend. 
Touch and arouse the slumbering eyes 
Which do not wake to see 
How other eyes grow dim with tears, 
And hearts droop wearily. 



Remind us, whom a Father's grace 
Hath blessed with many a gift, 

That there are those whom we may help 
From sorrow's gloom to lift. 

Quicken our sympathy, our love ; 
Our mercies let us share ; 



AT THE SEASON OF THANKSGIVING. 



Let the glad sunshine of our hves 
Spread o'er sad lives of care. 

Sweet Charity, we will not close 

Our ears to thy soft voice ; 
For every impulse born of thee 

Must make some heart rejoice. 
Then come, come quickly. Charity ! 

And all throughout our land 
On waiting hearts, or cold or warm, 

Lay thine own blessed hand. 



And may the Lord, who ever heeds 

And marks the sparrow's fall. 
Help us to know, •whate'er our deeds 

He sees and marks them. all. 
By day and night, thro' storm and shine, 

Whate'er our lives may be, 
God grant these gifts of His delight — 

Faith, Hope, and Charity! 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 



■*i- 



-ri" ii '" 



^&^^^$^^^^^^^^^ 


-^^- 








THE OLD FOOTPATH. 




The Old Foot- 
path. 

^H, dear old footpath! day 

by day 
You lie 'neath skies or blue 

or grey ; 
Across the meadow 'neath 

the hill, 
Where shadows come and go 

at will. 
Safe home from distant lands 

once more, 
My busy memory travels o'er 
Long years of mingled joy and ptui. 
And takes me back to youth again. 

Just there beneath yon linden tree 

My little sweetheart watched for me, 

To greet me with her tell-tale face, 

Where love had marked its own sweet trace. 

I wonder where that dainty maid 

Thro' all these years gone by has strayed ; 

Or did some new swain's eager feet 

A pathway make o'er grasses sweet. 

And bend the nodding daisies low, 
Whilst two walked slowly to and fro? 
And, oh ! old path, none ever knew 
The lovers' secrets trusted you. 



Well, Time has many changes 
rung 

Since my young lips its praises 

■ sung ; 
But all unchanged, old friend, are you 
To whom my memory still is true. 



Your rugged breast is scarred each day 
By careless feet which o'er you stray, 
And many a hidden foot-print lies 
Unnoticed 'neath the changing skies. 
Feet that once trod you, now at last 
For ever rest — their journey past. 
And who may know, old path, if e'er 
My feet again shall tread you here .' 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 



A Ha;<dful of Flower^. 



SUMMER is gone, and the autumn winds 
Are stripping the leaves from the trembling 




The garden is lonely, its treasures are blown 
Far, far away on the chilling breeze ; 

The skies have lost their wonderful blue, 

And darken and change with the changing 
year ; 

And the dead leaves lie on the roadside brown, 
Since nature has grown so sad and drear. 

I walked alone o'er the garden path : 

My heart was troubled with gloom and 
doubt. 
"Alas!" I thought, "for the many sweet things 
That have gone with the beautiful summer 
out ! " 

Down the walk on her dancing feet 
My one best treasure came merrily. 

Her dear voice rang thro' the frosty air : 
"A handful of flowers ! See, 
mother, see ! 



" They were all I could find 
that the cold had 
spared. 

But they waited to cheer 
us a little while ! 
And I guess, mamma, that 
the summer meant 



To say good-bye with 
just one last smile ! " 



^^-r^-^^^^^J^^.J 



A HANDFUL OF FLO! VERS. 



1 gathered my darling within my arms, 
The blue of summer was in her eyes, 

And the pure, sweet heart I knew was full 
Of the beautiful sunshine of summer skies. 

Ah ! autumn might come with frost and gloom. 
And shadows might come and go at will. 

But the Lord of heaven and earth was good 
To spare my heart's garden on? flower still 

The joys He had taken would live again 

In His own fair garden of peace and rest ; 

And I said in my heart, " Come shadow or 
shine, 
The dear Lord doeth and knoweth best. 

"Tho' over my life a tloud has passed. 

And the glory of summer I may not see. 

If I searc/i my heart I am sure to find 
A 'handful of flowers' yet left for me. 

" And winter will pass in its own good time, 
And the verdure now dead will live again ; 

And peace, and trust, and faith, and love 

Shall all be born from my present pain." 

So I lifted mine eyes from the leaf-strewn ground, 

And looked far off at the autumn sky. 
And I knew that the shadows 
that dimmed its blue 
Would vanish and fade in 
the " by-and-by." 



Oh ! hearts that weep, and are prone to yield 
To the touch of gloom in this world of ours, 

Go search yourselves, and you'll always find 

That there still remains a " handful of flowers." 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




GRANDMOTHER'S THOUGHTS. 



43 




[HAT happy thoughts are flitting 

(While Grancl mamma sits knitting) 
Throughout the aged heart still true and strong? I Fi 

" For like stitches on my needles," says this happy Grandma Gray 
" So He mulliplies my blessings and increases them each day." 



Ah ! 'tis just the same old story, 
She is giving Christ the glory 
the mercies which have blessed her life so long. 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




CALLED BY THE ANGELS. 




AnrI, ah ! how oft, as the days go by, 

She starts, as her listening ear 
Has ahnost caught on the sighing breeze 

Voices so soft and clear. 
" 'Tis the angels calling ! " she thinks. " Ah, me 

It is weary wailing here ! " 

The miller comes from his work at last, 

In tlie dusk of the autumn day, 
And he sits him down by his faithful wife. 

And strokes her locks so gray, 
And looks in her face with a loving smile 

That years steal not away. 

And back again as her dim eyes turn 
To the hill where the shadows fall, 

.She thinks, ' ' My treasures are lying there. 
But He hath not taken all. 

Since one beside me is waiting still 
Till the angel voices call." 

But the weeks are slow, and the aged two 

In the dusk of many a day 
Will watch the shadows that come and go 

O'er the meadows lonely and gray, 
Ete ihey, at the angels' call, may lie 

Where their treasures are laid away. 



46 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




JOHN AND THE SQUIRE. 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




^RETTY Juliette, with the rose on her cheek, 
And a light in her happy dark eyes, 
Comes merrily home with her heart all. aglow, 

And bright as her own native skies. 
The madre looks long at her child's little hands, 

So rosy from fingers to palm. 
" What hath reddened thy hands, mia figlia ? " she asks, 

Her heart filled with sudden alarm. 
" Ah, madre mia ! " comes the answer gay, 
" I plucked some red, red roses by the way." 

Pretty Juliette, with a song in her heart, 

Where happiness sweet overflows, 
Another time comes firom her walk in the glen, 

And her lips are as red as a rose. 
" Oh, child ! " cries the mother, and looks in her face, 

" Say, why are thy young lips so red ? " 
Lo, blushes creep over the pretty soft cheek, 

And down droops the modest young head. 

'Ah, madre mia," comes the answer low, 

" It was the red, red berries stained them so." 



PRETTY JULIETTE. 

Anotlier time homeward comes pretty Juliette ; 

But her heart has forgotten its song, 
And her cheek and her lips are as pale as the snow. 

And her feet on the way linger long. 
The mother looks close at the white, weary face. 

" Carissima figlia ! " she cries. 
"What hath chased from thy cheek the sweet blush of 
the rose "i 

What hath darkened the light in thine eves? 






" Ah, niadre ! niadre mia ! " is the crv, 
"Hold me upon thine heait and let me die! 
For when my hands were red, his pressed them so ; 
It «as his kiss which stained my lips ; his low, 
Persuasive voice filled all my heart with song. 
And made mine eyes to shine, and my step strong. 
But love is false ! ah, madre, love lies dead ! 
Can roses bloom when summer's sun hath fled.'' 



5o 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




Qf^ANDPA /i]^(D Hip "DEAf^." 



>rtAN any one say what fun there is 

In the thoughtless use of a gun, 
Which takes its aim at an innocent hfe, 

And, lo ! that hfe is done ? 
The merry, happy, warbling birds, 

The' roguish they may be, 
The song they sing is pleasanter far 

Than the bang of a gun — to me. 

" When I was a boy," said Grandpa Gray, 
" I thought, ' Now, like a man, 

I'll take my gun to the fields, and bag 
As many birds as I can.' 



" So off I Avent, and I banged away. 

With no thought of the pain I gave, 
Till I presently met a sweet young miss 

Trying one bird to save. 
It had fallen near with a wounded wing. 

And the look in her face so sad 
Went straight to my heart, and I felt ashamed 

Of myself for a heartless lad. 

" Well, after that, I never could aim 

At an innocent bird again. 
But — I took to hunting after the deer 

And I did not hunt in vain ; 




GRANDPA AND HIS "DEAR." 







FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




'■FOR JESUS' SAKE, AMEN! 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 



11, "f.'^' 



i \ 



Sff 







^^ 




i'""'riii|||,il i,'''i';, 



THE NEW LESSON 




The Kew IhEs^o 



C^O you're learning a lesson, maiden fair, 
— ' Tho' a schoolgirl never more : 
Learning a lesson with all your heart 

That you never have learned before. 
The sunljeams herald the gladsome day. 
And over the world they dance and play, 
While you are conning with heart so gay 

Your sweet new " lesson " o'er. 

You are " somebody's queen ; fair, gracious, sweet ! " 

You know — for that letter at rest, 
Safe hidden from curious eyes, my dear, 

'Neath the folds on your gentle breast, 
Has over and over in every line 
Told you that story — oh ! maiden mine — 
And the reading has filled your eyes with the shine 

Of your own love half confessed. 

Many a lesson you've learned, dear child, 

In the schoolgirl days gone by ; 
And some were easy, and some were hard. 

Bringing a frown and sigh. 
But, oh, to be learning a lesson like this ! 
When studying it brings such a measure of bliss ! 
And the learning — is helped by a lover's kiss: 

It is pleasure that never can die. 

As the morning heralds the full, bright day. 

You stand with your hopes and fears 
On the very thieshold of womanhood. 

Crowned with your nineteen years ; 
Which have gathered you laurels, one by one. 
Till the days of your childish plans are done. 
And the work of your womanhood scarce begun. 
Either for smiles or tears. 

So keep your secret, 'tis all your own. 

But the smile that dimples your cheek. 

And the happy light in your eyes, betray 
What your lips refuse to speak. 

And the sun shall gleam, and glimmer, and play 

Over the waters, and far away. 

And then — at the close of a happy day 
Some one his answer will seek. 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




The Bi^ook's IhAPT 3ojmq. 



WHE brook goes gently murmuring 

On its accustomed way, 
Thro' meadow grasses singing, 

Thro' forests old and gray ; 
But its song seems strangely dreary 

On this October day. 



" Oh ! fragrant grasses bending 
To kiss me as I go. 

Well may my heart be dreary, 
Well may my song be low. 

And each succeeding ripple 
Be noiseless in its flow. 



THE BROOK'S LAST SONG. 




" For day by day my pulses 
Must yet more slowly beat, 

Till comes a time — oh, daisies ! 
When never more shall meet 

Your fragrant lips my waters 
In kisses soft and sweet. 

" Oh ! lovers who have lingered 
Full many a time with me 

To talk your foolish nonsense 
With lo\ers' harmony. 

But yet a little longer 

Your servant I can be ! 

" For know you not, the hour 

Comes near when winter's kmg 

Shall freeze my lips in silence 
With icy covering ? 

And I shall die in sorrow, 

Crushed 'neath his cold, white wmg 

And slowly, yet more sternly. 

The brook goes on its way 
Thro' ferns and drooping 
grasses, 
And thro' the forests gray. 
And its song is yet more ^^ 
feeble — 
More plaintive day by day. 




--'--i-..;''^ 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




NE was fair as fair could be, 

The others black — {she thought them 
pretty) ; 
And I — of only one I dreamed, 

And she — she was — the other Kitty. 
She loved the others, I loved her, 

And full of mischief were the three ; 
But, ah ! at last kind fate contrived 
To give the winning card to me 



With blue eyes closed, and head thrown back, 

Within the easy chair sat Kitty. 
Thought I, " If now a pair of gloves 
I may not win, 'twill be a pity." 
And as I softly reached her side, 

The red lips parted with a murmur. 
And, oh, what joy ! she breathed my name ! 
Within my heart hope grew still firmer. 



"Dost love me, Kitty?" whispered I ; 

And soft in sleep came back her answer 
I love thee not ! " I stood aghast. 

Till love urged, " Kiss her while you can, sir." 
But, ah ! the blue eyes swift unclosed. 

And glanced at me with mirth o'erflowing ; 
Thought I, " I'll let her think awhile 

That I've heard something worth the knowing." 



Then drawing near, I slily said, 

" Fair maid, your dreams have well betrayed you." 
" For shame ! " cried she, " to steal my thoughts. 

And get my slumbering tongue to aid you ! " 
All penitent, I humbly said, 

" But, ah ! the secret in my keeping 
Has made me sad." Then murmured she, 

" One never tells the truth while sleeping ! " 



WAITING FOR ''MOTHER' 



w» • 



x^ll 






Waitijmq for "]V1other"S; 



^ HE old man sits in liis easy chair 
Wf, Slumbering the moments away, 

Dreaming a tlream that is all his own 
On this gladsome Christmas day. 
His children have gathered from far and near, 

His children's children beside, 
And merry voices are echoing through 
The " Homestead's" halls so wide. 



"% 



,.v 



But far away in the years long flown, 

Grandfather lives again ; 
And his heart forgets that it ever knew 

A shadow of grief or pain. 
For he sees his wife as he saw her then, 

A matron, comely and fair. 
With her children gathered around his board. 

And never a vacant chair. 

Oh ! happy dream of the " Auld lang syne," 

Of the years long slipped away ; 
And the old man's lips have gathered a smile. 

And his heart grows young and gay. 
But a kiss falls gently upon his brow 

From his daughter's lips so true : 
" Dinner is ready, father, dear ; 

We are only waiting for you." 

The old man wakes at his daughter's call 

And looks at the table near : 
"There's one of us missing, my child," he says ; 

"Call mot/icr—ihc is not here ! " 
There are tears in the eyes of the children then. 

As they gaze on the empty chair ; 
For many a lonely year has passeil 

.Since " Mother " sat with them there. 

But the old man pleads still wistfully, 

" We tiiusi wait /or mother, you know ! " 
So they let him rest in his old armchair 

Till at last the sun sinks low. 
Then, leaving a smile for his children here. 

He turns from the earth away. 
And has gone to " Mother" beyond the skies, 

With the close of the Christmas day. 



^1 



-^ 



'#'^^P 



L^?^ 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




JVIy JVIaf^qaf^et ! 



■'^^Y Margaret, would that I could be 
'*=^' The breeze which softly kisses thee ; 
Or else those sunbeams, warm and bright, 
Which crown thy head with golden light." 
"The breeze," she answered, ''dies away, 
And sunbeams fade with close of day." 



" Then if I were those flowers fair 
Which thou, dear girl, art carrying there. 
To wear perchance upon thy breast — 
Oh happy flowers, so loved, so blest ! " 
" The flowers fair must fade," said she ; 
" Then I shall cast them off from me ! " 



" Well, let me then thy true love be. 
Winning thine every thought for me ; 
I'll envy not the breeze or flower. 
Nor e'en the sunshine's golden dower.' 
" Ah, love I cannot cast away. 
But hold for ever, night and day ! " 



MY MARGARET! 




64 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




JVIy Ship — my Capt/iIn. 



'Vf SAID in the gladness of my heart — 
~ Only a little while ago — 
" A ship is hastening home from sea, 
And her bonny captain is thinking of me, 
And fast the good winds blow ! " 

So I watched the waves, and I watched the 
clouds, 

Wandering down by the shore each day. 
Till I longed for the sea-gulls' wings, that I 
Over the billows swift might fly 

To meet my love half-way. 



Last night they whispered the ship had come— 

My ship that was sailing over the sea ; 
And now in the morning's ruddy glow 
They show me a ship that is lying low ; 
But what is that to me? 

My ship was strong, and her crew were 
brave. 

Her captain — ah ! — was my captain too. 
And he promised to meet me safely here 
Some day when the sea and sky were clear. 

And when was his word untrue? 



But this ? — why, this is a battered thing. 

And her crew, they tell me, are lost and dead ! 
My captain had always a kiss for me 
When he came before from over the sea ; 
But there, 'neath yonder shed, 



MY SHIP— MY CAPTAIN. 




Lies one with a face so white and still! 

And lips that never a word will speak ; 
And they say— alas ! but I know— I know 
My sailor would never lie silent so, 

With my tears upon his cheek 



Oh ! let me thmk that my ship will come, 

So long I've waited, it must not be 
That //lis is the way— so fast— too fast— 
My ship, storm-driven, and wrecked at last, 
Came over the waves to me ! 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 



Primf^o^e Time. 



ipCOME May, sweet May, with all thy bloom, 
^=* Thy fragrant breezes, azure skies. 
Come quickly to the waiting earth. 

And bid its hidden treasures rise. 
Give us again the song of birds. 

The scent of blossoms on the air, 
The rustle of the growing grass, 

The dainty primrose, sweet and fair. 




Oh ! there are hearts that long to feel 

Thy soft caress on cheek and brow ; 
Hearts grieving, that would fain be glad ; 

Come then, dear May, and teach them how, 
Come, tell us of thy sister June, 

What gifts from her shall follow thine ? 
Ah ! roses red she wears for crown ; 

Bright May, thy primrose shall be mine. 



PR/MROSE TIME. 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




THANKSGIVING DAY. 



69 




70 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




THE SWEET JUNE TIME. 



Come, little folks— the fields and bnes 

Are lonely now without you ! 
The birds are all in tune to sing 

Their sweetest songs about you. 
The old barn doors stand open wide, 

The brooks with fish are teeming ; 
And over hill, and dale, and lake, 

Dame Nature's smiles are beaming 

Come, one and all, from tar and near, 

And sound the summer's praises. 
Whilst racing through the clover fields, 

And nestling 'mid the daisies. 
Make wreaths of roses crimson-red. 

Your bright young heads adorning. 
For summer-time was made for you, 

And June is summer's morning ! 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




ifT means a glad up-springing of all things sweet and fair, 
^ Soft meadows, daisy-sprinkled, and blossom-scented air, 
It means the song of brooklets where ferns and grasses 
grow ; 
It means the budding tree-tops, 'round which soft zephyrs blow. 

It means a sky as tender and blue as baby-eyes. 
Where scarce a shadow passes, and scarce a sorrow lies ; 
It means the hastening homeward of winter-banished birds. 
And the roving, welcome freedom of long-housed flocks and 
herds. 

It means the soft unfolding of wild rose bud and bloom, 
Of vines that yield their fragrance the mild breeze to perfume ; 
It means the wayside glory that meets 

our grateful eyes. 
When on each hedge and pathway 
some new-born beauty lies. 



% 




SPRING- TIME. 



73 




74 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 



JVIy Boyhood'p Home. 



EO near the scene of my boyhood's home ! 
— Ah ! were I still but the merry boy 
Whose careless life on the dear old spot 
Was ever content and full of joy ! 



There I roamed at will o'er the meadows green, 
And stood at a tender mother's knee, 

And played with the brother whose fresh young heart 
Was big with the love it held for me. 





How oft I think of the dear old days 

When we came together, dear Will and I, 
To watch the shadows reflected here 

From the fleecy clouds of a summer sky ! 
How well he loved the fisherman's life 

That lay before us — the fisherman's boys ! 
And how he grieved when I left our home 

To taste of other and distant joys! 

Ah ! years have fled since that happy time, 

And I am a man now, old and grey ; 
And mother, and father, and many friends 

Have long since passed from the earth away. 
My face is scarred with the toils of life, 

I've known temptations, and fought them 
through ; 
And vi'ho shall say that the victories gained 

Have not to the dear old home been due? 

There's never a life but soon or late 

The tempter's power must feel and know. 
And happy that heart which takes its strength 
From the truths it learned in the "long 
ago." 
Oh, dear-loved scene of my boyhood's home 1 

I bare my head in honour of thee ; 
And I know that, wanderer tho' I am, 
3^^=^_ My brother a welcome will have for me !: 



A/V BOYHOODS HOME. 



76 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




The $onq of the $P0RTpMy4>N. 



Y ET who will sing of summer with its skies so soft and blue, 

To the merry, brown old autumn the sportsman's heart is true ; 

Then we listen to the crack of our rifles sharp and clear, 

And we bag onr game all quickly with a ringing shout and cheer. 

Oh ! the hill-side, it is golden ; and like the sunlit seas 
Are the fields of yellow corn as they rustle in the breeze ; 
And the river gleams like silver beneath the autumn sky. 
And o'er its rippling bosom, see ! the wild ducks flap and fly. 



From the gorgeous-hued old forest comes the pipe of many a bird. 
And the marshes with the rustle of the shy reed-birds are stirred. 
And heavily come homeward the laden harvest wains, 
And the farmer's heart is merry as he views his harvest gains. 



THE SONG OF THE SPORTSMAN. 




Oh ! there's much to say good-bye to when summer goes away — 
The sweet, soft time of summer, that cannot always stay ; 
But there's much, so much to welcome with the ripe September days. 
And the earth grows fuller — richer in October's golden haze. 



Then, ho ! brothers, let us sing of the days to us so dear ; 

Let us say good-bye to summer, let us welcome autumn here. 

Bring your rifles and your pouches, and to the lake-side hie. 

For there's game upon the wing, my lads, and sunshine in the sky ! 



78 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 







aiSBi 



The l\fooN T^ECE^p, 



/^H ! how the merry laugh and shout 

Of happy little folks ring out 
Upon the soft and balmy air, 
Sending sweet echoes everywhere ! 
Who but the children can express 
Half the delights of "Noon Recess"? 
When from the books and study free,' 
Their little hearts o'erfuU of glee, 
No rule may meddle with the fun, 
That's all their own — from twelve to one ! 



Alas ! for little lad or lass 

To whom it may have come to pass 

That naughtiness has brought about 

No right to join in " laugh and shout ; " 

Who all this recess hour must spend 

On study bench without a friend. 

While on the angry little face 

The scowls and tears leave many a trace i 

Poor little captive ! noon recess 

Has lost all charms — vou will confess. 



THE NOON RECESS. 



79 



Ah ! well, this hfe is but a school, 
Where we must j'ield to rod and rule. 
By some mysterious, stronger power 
We sometimes lose our recess hour. 
But even so, if loss of " fun " 



Should mark some needed victory won, 
The discipline must in the end 
Prove to have been our wisest friend : 
And when our recess hour we earn, 
With added zeal to it we turn. 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




Of dew-wet flowers. Everywhere 
A tender, restful silence lies, 
Born of the misty, distant skies ; 
Whence twilight shadows slowly fall, 
Like gauzy curtains, over all. 
The meadows stretch so mistily. 



,'es can see ; 
And yonder forest hides away 
In its own darkness from the day ; 
And tinkling cow-bells ring in time 
To yonder streamlet's slumbrous chime i 
And o'er sweet Nature's paling face 
Night letteth down her veil apace. 



AT THE TWILIGHT HOUR. 




FROM GOLD TO GREY 




H'/fV THE DAISIES ARE WHITE. 



S3 



Why the Dai^ie? are White. 



/J\NCE on a time a quarrel rose, 
^ 'Tis said, between impatient Spring 

And that old Greybeard Winter, who 

Yet longer to his throne would cling. 
" My turn it is," quoth Mistress Spring, 

" To reign, and clothe the earth anew. 
How long must all my beauties lie 

Concealed, for fear of such as you?" 

Then to the sunbeams, coaxingly, 

She turned and said, " To you alone 
I look for help earth's chains to loose, 

And drive this loiterer from the throne." 
So, tempted by her smiling face, 

The sunbeams answered to her call. 
And tho' old Winter battled well. 

His kingdom soon began to fall. 

*'But if you think," he coldly said, 

" All trace of me to wipe away. 
My memory still shall haunt and lie 

Upon your meadows day by day." 
And on that night a messenger 

By Winter sent to Daisyland — 
Upon each daisy blossom laid 

A sheet of snow with lavish hand. 

And Mistress Spring, when she beheld 

The souvenir of Winter's reign. 
Smiled, as she softly kissed her pets. 

And foiled his purpose once again. 
For in the heart of each white flower 

She laid a bit of golden sun ; 
And bade it nestle closely there 

Until sweet daisy-life were done. 

And thus the fair field flower grew : 

Spring's golden sunshine, warm and bright 

At rest for ever in its heart. 

The while its leaves, like snow, are white. 




«4 



FROM GOLD TO GREY, 




A 







^^•\>'',4!. 



.' ;) '? 

■1 






'-•''- W:.«;- 



1 



AfV APRIL LOVE. 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




OUT ON THE SANDS. 



sr 




lUT on the sands we walked — three friends — 
To watch the sea-gulls dipping low, 
While gently murmuring at our feet 
The waters rippled to and fro ; 
And merrily and happily 

We watched the white waves come and go. 




But one of us was very fair ; 

Alas ! I knew it was not I. 
My heart sank low, but I was brave 

To watch his face when she was by, 
Where all too well, with tender spell, 

Love wrote its own tale silently. 

And so at last I left them there. 
And all unheeded came away. 

And from our gay companions hid 

The lesson I had learned that day. 

My dream was o'er, with Love no more 
I watched the rippling waters play. 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 

The Old Bai^n. 

/^H ! a jolly old place is grandpa's barn, 

Where the doors stand open throughout the day, 
And the cooing doves fly in and out, 

And the air is sweet with the fragrant hay. 

Where the grain lies over the oaken floor, 
And the hens are busily scratching around. 

And the sunbeams flicker, and dance, and shine, 

And the breeze blows through with a merry sound 

The swallows twitter and chirp all day 

With fluttering wings in the old brown eaves, 

And robins sing in the trees which lean 

To brush the roof with their rustling leaves. 



The timid mice in the corner glean 

A harvest sly from the scattered grain, 

And the insects hum in the well-filled lofts. 
And build their nests on the window-pane. 

Oh ! dear old barn, where my childish days 

Were passed full oft, how I long to be 

Only a child again, to play 

Beneath thy roof with the old-time glee 1 




THE WATER-LILY'S STOKY. 



89 




The Watef^-IhILy'p 3tof(y 



(From the 



IT was the Water-Lily told this pretty tale to me : 
" What think you yestereven was given me to see ? 
— There came a youth and maiden, two watchful aunts beside— 
And o'er the lake's calm bosom all gently did they glide. 

" But silent sat the maiden, and silent sat the youth, 
Lest older hearts their secret should learn, and lest the truth 
Their lips would fain have spoken, those older ears should hear ! 
Ah ! love is given to plotting when danger lurketh near ! 

" So when beneath the waters her little hand she dipped 
To cool its beating pulses, his own he slily slipped 
Beneath the sparkling ripples, the water's warmth to find, 
And— also something else that was nearer to his mind. 

" /saw them come together, the dainty hand so sweet. 
And his, so strong and tender, with fond clasp to repeat 
The tale their hearts were holding ; and neither aunt had sign 
That love was thus fulfilling its own sweet law divine. 

" Oh ! that play bene.ith the waters ! Sweeter for its stolen fun ; 
In and out the hands kept dipping, till the quiet sail was done. 
And from where I lay a-hiding, 'mongst my leaves so cool and green, 
Did I laugh to read the secret by the stern old aunts unseen. 

Thus the tell-tale Water-Lily told all merrily to me 

The sweet love-secret given 'neath the ripples bright to see. 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




GREATURES of golden, sunshiny weat 
Coquetting with blossoms for hou 
gether ! 

I lappiest ever when skies are blue, 

\nd sunshine your merriest moments woo ! 

1 •tight-robed and beautiful, artless and gay 
\ferrily idling the summer away. 

Much ye remind me, butterflies bright, 
( )f a winsome maiden, with heart as light 

\nd fickle as yours, as the days go by ; 
1" It for only a sunshiny sky ! 

( jquetting with hearts and love awhile, 
J hen off and away with a careless smile. 

I ut when the summer at last has fled, 
J'UtUrJlies' holiday, too, lies dead. 



r 

I 
t 



DESOLATE! 




LIFE may not all of sunshine be, we know 
The clouds must sometimes gather overheid, 

And tears, like rims, fall fast upon our heirts. 
And hopes before keen sorrow s blast fill dead. 
Lils£ a lone house — as desolate it stands — 
Our hearts seem oftentimes, alas ' to be , 



But Faith shall ope the doors and windows wide. 
And Hope shall enter with sweet Charity. 

And as the rain all nature doth refresh. 

When earth's fair blossoms droop beneath the sun. 

So we, refreshed, thro' mist of tears look forth, 
And feel our joys re-blossom one by one. 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 







'' .9r 







\ '1 ■■'' ' 'n 







LOVE'S CONTRADICTIONS. 



93 



giimiiiiiiiiiiiui iiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiwiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiuaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii nil iiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiuiniiiiiiiiiininiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuuiiiiiiyiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiu^ 




L(OVE g 



/\H . my lo\e is as fair as the blosioms of May, 

^ And sweet as June roses is she. 

But what shall I do when the merry dark eyes 

Refuse with her lips to agree ? 
My heart, she well knows, is for ever her own, 

It slipped from my keeping one day ; 
And the' I made haste to demand its return, 

The truant refused to obey. 

She knows I am waiting an honest reply 

To the question I asked — long ago. 
Rut, alas ! while her eyes shine a positive '■'■Yes" 

Her saucy, red lips answer — "A't).'" 
Now what can be done with a maiden like this ? 

My heart on the qui vivc remains, 
First hoping, then longing, then coaxing, and then 

Most cruelly teased for my pains ! 

She's " in love with Dame Nature," she merrily says, 
When I press her for sober replies ; 

But there's somehow a glance that my heart beats 
to see 
When she lifts to my own her bright eyes. 



There never was seen so provoking a maid, 

Nor one so bewitching indeed : 
And I am so truly her captive, that still 

I'll follow where'er she may lead. 

She may " love old Dame Nature," but I will love 
best 

The maid who is Nature's own child : 
First playful, then sober, then grave, and then gay ; 

Cruel at times, and then mild. 
Oh ! which are the truer — the eyes or the lips ? 

Of the two — which can lover believe .' 
I'll trust the dear eyes, for red lips are oft false ; 

But the eyes — they can never deceive ! 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




We Two. 



ipSOME wife, dear woman, and sit by me, 
\J For the toilsome day is done. 

And many thoughts in my heart are born 
With the setting of the sun. 
Ay, give me your hand, my patient love, 

That my own may clasp it tight. 
Not dearer it was in the days agone, 

Dear wife, than it is to-night. 

Old and wrinkled it may be, dear. 

But look you, wife, at the shine 
Of the ring that has clung to your finger there 

Since the day that I called you mine. 
'Twas a long, long march from our youth to age ; 

But Time, be he ne'er so gray, 
Can never tarnish the lustre, dear. 

Of the pledge of our wedding-day. 



Look, wife, look out o'er the dear old pond ! 

How it lies 'neath the sunset's glow, 
All bathed in the tints we liked to see 

In those days of our long ago. 
The lilies are sweet, the lilies are white— 

As white as they used to be 
When, after the duties of day were done, 

You rowed on the pond with me. 

Do you remember that one glad eve 

When my heart o'erflowed at last? 
And the love I had feared to let you know 

Came pouring so thick and fast 
That it brought the beautiful blushes, love. 

To your tender, dimpled cheek. 
And you told your joy in your glowing eyes, 

Tho' your red lips dared not speak. 



But you dipped your hand in the waters bright 

And gathered a lily for me. 
And bade me wear it home, dear heart. 

That all the village might see 
That Dorothy, fairest of all the maids, 

Had given her hand and love 
To Reuben — truest of all the lads. 

Ay ! true as the stars above ! 




We can see the spot on the bank, dear witt, 

Where we landed that happy night 
In the sunset's glow ; and I kissed your brow, 

And clasped in my own so tight 
The trembling hand that was mine— all mine. 

And beneath the evening's dew 
(Just as the stars began to shine) 

Came home together — we two. 



love, the truth of that faithful love, 
Born far in the auld lang syne, 
In our steadfast hearts, thro' weal and woe. 

Never has ceased to shine ; 
But like the ring on your finger, dear, 
Is bright and unbroken still, 

many's the cloud we've passed beneath. 
At the heavenly Master's will. 




We're left — we two — to walk alone 

In the twilight, dear heart, of life, 
While our children wait at the shore above : 

When shall we meet them, wife ? 
Nay, dry those tears, and be glad with me 

That tho' day is almost done. 
We two are spared to each other still 

At the setting of Life's low sun. 



96 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




THE BARREN TREE. 



97 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 



i 4._~w^ 




^*- 







■^i^#v- •..;'. ■ .^^^:'^ ' 







-L^ -y-"" 



^■^- 



Spf^ijMQ Ti; c 



UT in the orchard the wee blossom-fairies 

Are busy with palettes and brushes at last ' 
See how they flutter about in the branches, 
Tinting the apple trees brightly and fast 



Pink and white blossoms, so dainty and fragrant, 
Laden with promise of good things to come ; 

Softly the breezes are stealing their perfume, 

While 'midst their beauty the busy bees hum. 

Fair are the treasures which come with the spring-time, 
Fields full of daisies and grasses so green; 

Sweet are the zephyrs from rose-gardens blowing, 
Lovely the earth in the sun's golden sheen. 

But out in the orchard amid the white blossoms. 

The pink and white blossoms that garland the trees. 

We find the best charm of the beautiful spring-time, 
And welcome the touch of the sweet-scented breeze. 



EASTER LILIES. 



99 




Oh ! sweet white lilies, your bloom was blest, 
For ye shone out with the Easter sun ; 

The tieautiful emblems of sorrow past. 
Of joy and gladness, and victory won. 

Ye came with the music of Easter bells, 

When they rang their tidings so far and near. 

And ye linger still, as the voice of spring 
Is singing its own sweet hymn so dear. 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




A/r BONNIE LADDIE. 




/y^Y bonnie laddie said to me 

Sla (Oh ! but a bonnie lad was he) — 

" Come, lass, and sit by me awhile. 
And cheer me with your winsome smile." 
I sat beside my laddie there 
(Oh ! but the day it was so fair), 
I talked and smiled with him whose love 
Was worth to me all hearts above. 

He praised my eyes, he praised my hair, 
He begged that I his home would share. 
" I'll be your shepherd — you, my sheep, 
And safe from harm your life I'll keep." 
So sang my bonnie lad to me ! 
So cheerily my lad sang he. 
And I — I listened with a smile, 
My heart o'erfull for words the while. 

My bonnie laddie went away 

(Oh ! but the snows were deep that day), 

My laddie, who my life would keep. 

Were he my shepherd — I, his sheep — 

Went down the hill at duty's call, 

And perished in the deep snow-fall. 

But in the fold above is he, 

Safe there to watch and wail for me. 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




"J_,ET Wei-l Enouqh Alone.' 



jODk Y dear," said Mr. Bunny, on a pleasant summer day, 
^Ila " I'll go and take a look at things outside and far away 
From this dull home of ours, where we've lived too long, you see- 
Perchance I'll find a livelier place, my dear, for you and me." 



''LET WELL ENOUGH ALONE:' 




I04 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




PRETTY PHYLLIS. 



105 




FROM GOLD TO GREY 




The Te^t of the JDai^y 

I<EAVEg. 



^ H ' daisy, what are you good for, pray, 
If you do not tell me the truth to-day, 
As I count your leaves as white as snow. 
To see whether somebody loves — or no ? ' 

Softly she stole from her friends apart, 

With a dimpling cheek and a fluttering heart, 

To scatter the daisy leaves so white. 

And test their charm for the wrong or right. 

" ' He loves — loves not — he loves' — ah I 

Dear little daisy, the truth confess ; 

But I'll know you're wrong should your leaves say 

' No ! ' 
He loves — for his eyes have told me so. " 

So over and over the words were said, 
Till the last white leaf from the stalk had fled ; ' 
But the secret hid in her heart none knew 
Till she whispered it to her lover true. 



THE TEST OF THE DAISY LEAVES. 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




TwiLIQHT OJM THE Be/iCH. 



^^HE crimson glory of the setting sun 
Hath lain a moment on the 
ocean's breast, 
Till twilight shadows, gathering one by 
one. 
Bring us the tidings, day is gone to 
rest. 

Far out upon the waters, like a veil, 
The mists of evening rise and stretch 
away 
Between the horizon and the distant sail. 
And earth and sea are clothed in 
sombre gray. 

The tide comes higher up the smooth, 
wide beach. 
Singing the song it has for ages sung ; 
Recedes, and carries far beyond our 
reach 
The freight my idle hands have sea- 
ward flung 



TWILIGHT ON THE BEACH. 



P 




Over the white -capped waves the sea- 
gulls soar 
With heavy-flapping wing and restless 
cr\', 
As darkness spreads its deeper mantle 
o'er 
The changing shadows of the twilight 
sky. 

No voice but mine to mingle with the 
sound 
Of ocean's melody — as one by one 
The stars light up the vast concave 
around, 
And live the glory that is never done. 

Still higher creeps the tide with subtle 
power, 
And still the waves advance with 
sullen roar ; 
But with the last faint gleam of twilight 
hour 
I turn me homeward from the lonely 
shore. 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




H ! Matin Bells, which cheerily 
Ring out your morning song, 
Would that I were a boy again. 
With heart and will so strong, 
To battle with the cares of life, 

Life's duties well to do, 
And — as in those dear days of youth — 
To faith and hope be true. 

I seem again to hear the call 

Which ye did send afar. 
As brighter grew the Eastern skies 

Around the morning star. 
And sweet and clear your echoes ring 

Throughout my careworn heart, 
Till age is lost in dreams of youth, 

Which newer strength impart. 



THE AWAKENING. 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




|f.-;;r^v' 






<- 



The Try^tijmq Hour. 



fOMEWARD from the fields she hies, 
Nora with the nut-brown eyes. 
Thro' the woods at close of day 
Eagerly she takes her way. 
Weary .? Yes ; but knowing who 
Seeks the little foot-bridge, too. 
What cares she for weariness.'' 



Her true laddie's fond caress 

(As he comes his love to meet) 

Soon her waiting heart will greet. 

Then together, side by side. 

At the happy eventide, 

Hand in hand, with eyes aglow. 

O'er the homeward path they'll go. 



THE TRYSTING HOUR. 



"3 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




The Cascade? 



J^LL day long they rush and roar, 
And sing their mad song o'er and o'er ; 
All night long they roar and rush, 
And the deep forest's solemn hush 
Disturb, as down the mountain-side, 
Now like a rivulet, then wide. 
And wider still, they take their way 
'Neath sunlight and thro' shadows gray. 
Thro' day and night, as years go by. 
Heedless of storm or summer sky, 
Unmindful of our smiles or tears. 
Unmindful of our hopes and fears, 



THE CASCADES. 



Living their own wild lives so free, 
And singing their own songs merrily. 
Now plunging swift o'er rock and crag, 

Now creeping steadily among 
The ferns and grasses by the way, 

Then broadening till their foam is flung 
At last adown the terraced bank. 

Where cling the tangled vines so sweet, 
Leaping from stone to stone until 

Their lives the river-waters meet, 
And wrestling with the currents there, 
At last the river's burdens share. 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




THE SOWER. 



117 




The Sowei\ 



i^VER the freshened earth the sower goes, 

'0' And drops the seed with patient, generous hin 

Then waits in faith and trust, until at last 

God's bounteous increase spreads the fruitful land 
It may be that his toil be partly vain ; 

Since here and there the ground rejects his care ; 
But o'er and o'er he sows his seed, and still 

With hopeful heart his labor doth not spare. 

So in our hearts the tiny seeds may fall, 

Sown by the Gracious Father, day by day ; 
The timely word, the planting of a thought, 

Which, blessed by God, His efforts must obey. 
Yet should some hearts prove stubborn, hard and cold, 

The patient Sower 'will not stay His love ; 
But with long-suffering care will watch and wait. 

Enriching us with blessings from above. 

And as at last the earth returns to Him 

Who planted it— a harvest rich and free. 
So may our Father grant our living souls 

To Him an offering rich and true may be. 
We welcome all His bounty giveth us, 

The happiness with which our lives o'erflow ; 
Then 'neath the sunlight of His glorious love. 

Shall we not strive in truth and grace to grow 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




A 7 EVENTIDE. 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




"fyipyi'E. one! come all!" the farmer cries, 

'•^ With a hearty welcome in voice and eyes ; 
"The fields are wide, and the flowers are free, 
And the breezes are blowing right merrily ; 
And there's plenty of sunshine to be had 
For browning the cheeks of each lassie and 
lad." 

Oh ! fast the little pale cheeks grow brown, 
As the golden sunbeams come tumbling down 
To help the breezes which kiss so sweet 
Each lad and lassie they chance to meet. 
And the jolly old farmer cries, " Oh ! oh ! 
At last the dimples begin to grow ! " 



There's never a bird but seems to sing 
His happy song with a merrier ring, 
Because of the ears which love to hear. 
And the echoing voices so glad and clear. 
And the farmer says to his wife, " 'Tis plain 
A happiness shared is doubled again ! " 

Oh ! the " Fresh Air Fund ! " may its years be 

long. 
Its friends be many, its influence strong ; 
For fields are many, and flowers are free, 
And the lambs of God's flock should joyous be. 
And God holds ever the " Helping Hands " 
That labour at home or in distant lands. 



THE FRESH-AIR FUND. 





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FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




i.^AVINESS ENDURETH BUT FOR A NiGHT, 

Joy Cometh in the Morning." 



HAT tho' the night be starless, and sad, and cold, 
and drear. 
We know the moments passing bring morning 
yet more i 
We know the cloud of darkness is only for the night. 
That daylight in its dawning may only seem more bright. 

What tho' our hearts are laden with many a load of pain. 
We knowthe hand that gives them will lift them off again ; 
We know that tho' so weary we're fain to weep for grief. 
The light of God's own promise will surely give relief. 

The night of sorrow lingering may seem to us so long. 
But God for all the darkness will make the light full strong ; 
And as we turn to welcome the first faint ray of light. 
How soon the morning's sunshine will make our sad 
hearts bright ! 



THE LIVING SPRING. 




IKE the ever-living spring 

Whose waters freely flow 
Tho' lake and river, brook and stream: 
Are sealed by winter's snow : 



So Christ's most precious promises 

Refresh my thirsty heart, 
And, as I drink, the waters clear 

New strength and aid impart. 

By night and day the fountain flows. 

Nor storm, nor icy sleet 
Can bind or check the steady flow 

Of its cool waters sweet : 

So Christ His love most freely gives 
To those who thirst for life. 

And all who drink, new strength will feel, 
Come care — come woe — come strife. 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




THE FOUR-LEAF CLOVER 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




QoiJ^q AFTEF( THE CoW^. 



"TrENNIE!" mother cries, "Jen-»/^.' 
^ Why, where in the world can Jennie be? 
She went for the cows an hour ago. 
What ails the girl that she lingers so ? " 

The sun goes down in the crimson west, 
The tired day prepares for rest. 
And the laggard moments slowly pass. 
But bring no news of the truant lass. 

"What ails the girl?" The sober cows, 
Stopping along the fields to browse, 
May look in vain from side to side, 
And wait the voice of their pretty guide. 



The lengthening shadows unheeded fall. 
The whip-poor-will with his plaintive call, 
The gathering dews, and the darkening sky — 
All warn in vain as the minutes fly. 

Twice and thrice does mother go 
To the farmhouse door, ere she hears the low 
Of the cows, as they trample up the lane, 
And the ring of the cow-bells, clear and plain, 

But presently come the laggard feet 
Of Jennie and Jamie. Oh ! shyly sweet 
Are the girl's blue eyes as she stands before 
The mother, who meets her at the door. 



For far behind, by the pasture gate, 
Jennie — and Jamie— forget 'tis late, 
Forget the cows, and the milking hour. 
And everything else, save love's sweet power. 



" What kept you so, my child ? " "I ? — Oh ! 
I was going after the cows, you know." 
Then whispered Jamie, "Whatever you do. 
Don't tell her that I — vjetit after you I" 



GOING AFTER THE COWS. 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 



The Violet^. 



^ 0-DAY I saw the violet-girl, with sad 

^^ and wistful eyes ; 

She stands there by the corner, and " Sweet 

violets ! " she cries. 
From early morn till evening she wanders 

thro' the street — 
Poor little violet-seller — with tired hands 

and feet ! 




The flowers in her basket — the violets 

of Spring — 
Their sweet and subtle fragrance on 

the air are scattering. 
How she lifts them up to view as- 

the people jostle by, 
And "Violets ! sweet violets!" is still 

her plaintive cry. 




Only a violet-seller ! Oh ! ye children 

who are glad, 
Spare kindly words and glances to the 

child whose heart is sad : 
Poor patient little Maggie, with no 

mother's kiss to bless. 
No mother's arms to hold her in a sweet 

and fond caress ! 



THE VIOLETS. 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




The l^EJECTED T^O^E. 



NLY a rosebud, sweet and fair, 
Down by the roadside growing ; 
Of other flowers, rich and rare, 

And cultured, little knowing. 
Content its blushing face to hide 

'Mongst its own leaves, as straying 
Bees came wandering by its side, 

With idle zephyrs playing. 

The rosebud blossomed out at last 

Into the perfect flower ; 
And plucked by one who sauntered past 

Ere it had bloomed an hour, 
Was tossed aside, alas ! poor rose I 

Which sweeter grew when dying — 
And left, all crushed and withering, 

Upon the roadside lying. 

You understand, you say with scorn. 

While listening to my story ? 
You know which rose one summer morn 

You robbed of all its glory ? 
Ah ! man, the heart you cast away 

When so it served your pleasure, 
My own, for many and many a day 

Had worshipped without measure. 

She knew it not. I was not worth 

The love yoii held so lightly ; 
But / could lift it from the earth. 

The flower once blooming brightly — 
The rose you threw away — ah ! yes : 

Again to toy with — never ! 
But mine to worship and to bless. 

To keep and hold for ever. 



THE REJECTED ROSE. 



i3» 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




The CLOgE OF Day 



¥HE mantle of darkness is spread o"er the sky, 
_ The last gleam of twilight is fading away, 
And night, in advancing, her golden-starred veil 

Has quietly laid o'er the face of the day ; 
While the dew, or the tears of the day which is done. 
Fall softly on earth, on each flower and spray. 

And what of the hours that since the bright morn 
Have gathered the harvest of one day of life? 

Were they laden with deeds that were kindly and true. 
And fit to soar skyward ? Or were they but rife 

With thoughts born of sorrow, and hearts that were weak 
From battling away amid trouble and strife? 



'Tis said — and the saying brings comfort, we know — 
That with twilight some angel draws pityingly near 

To cover our woes with a sheltering wing, 

And ease every heart of its burthen of fear. 

And bear to the world far beyond the dark clouds 
The prayers that are prayed amid many a tear. 



THE CLOSE OF DAY. 



"33 



Or, if only gladness has fall'n to our lot, 

To help us be thankful, the dear angel steals 

Close — close to our hearts, till she enters within, 
And life's sweetest blessings more truly reveals. 

And the heart with new fervour looks upward in peace, 
K ■ And the spirit, grown humble, at heaven's gate 

I 

We can fancy ourselves at the feet of our Lord ; 
We can feel on our brows the dear touch of 
His hand ; 



We can breathe in His ear all our full hearts may 
hold. 
Be the thoughts what we will, He will well under- 
stand 
All the longings, the yearnings ; and all will he. peace 
In the soul that is trusting, at Jesus' command. 



kneels. 




I 



To each life," says the poet, " some sorrow must 
come ; " 
Aye ! but clouds soon are lifted, and after the 
rain, 
And after the weeping, and after the woe. 



There is sure to be sunshine and gladness again, 
And the brightness of blessings which hide all 
the pain. 



Whatever the burden the hours may bear 

Away with the day that has flown into space. 

May the hour of twilight bring comfort to all. 

And the mantle of darkness leave never a trace 

Of its own heavy shadow, when morning shall dawn. 
And a new day arise with a smile on its face. 



134 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




s:*''S;a^^s^^'«w|^"/l■>:?'*=^•i'"'; • y^^,:^^^^^'^ 



'The JVIeadow L(Ake. 



BROAD expanse of water rippling bright, 
And dimpling into sparkles 'neath the light 
Of a fair summer day, a golden day 
With which the sunbeams and the shadows play ; 
While on the hill-sides merrily the breeze 
Is singing its sweet song amongst the trees, 
Or, mad with frolic, 'neath the azure skies 
To dip its pinions in the lake it hies. 



Along the wooded shore the wavelets creep. 
Singing the ferns and nodding grass to sleep ; 
Kissing the' grim old rocks till one by one 
They shine and glisten 'neath the noonday sun. 
The boats, which lazily swing to and fro, 
Keep time to lullabies so soft and low. 
Which round their keels the rippling waters sing 
From morn till night, with love unwearying. 



Now here, now there, from many a woodside tree 
We hear the call of birds, and gleefully 
The music of their song sweet echoes make 
Across the bosom of the quiet lake. 
Far off, beneath the shadow of the shore, 
Some merry rower drops awhile his oar, 
And faintly o'er the waters, sweet and clear. 
The echo of his boat-song we may hear. 



THE MEADOW LAKE. 



135 



\ 



Oh ! fair, sweet lake, all diamond-crowned, and gay 
With the sweet blessing of the summer day ; 
Thou perfect picture from the Masters hand ; 
Thou fairest of all spots on sea or land ; 
Shut in by hills which bathe their staunch old fes; 
In thy cool wavelets : kissed by zephyrs sweet 
And guarded by the soft blue sky above. 
No wonder that thy memory I love ! 



Far, far away from thee my path must lie. 
Apart from wooded hill and full free sky ; 
Apart from shady glen and ferny road ; 
Apart from Nature's fearless, loving code. 
But in my heart thy memory I shall hold 
Till memory and sense grow worn and old- 
And many a silent echo will awake 
Itself within my heart, fair meadow lake. 




136 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




LOVES HIDING-PLACE. 



137 




" Well," sighed she, " I'll not betraj 

safe with me." 
Came the hunter then . " Oh ' maiden, didst thuu 

Cupid see ? " 
" Nay," she answered, whilst m blushes her fair face 

was steeped. 
And Love, in fancied safety nestling, 'neath her 

eyelids peeped. 
Fatal glance! the maiden's secret quickly was 

revealed, 
Love, within the blue eyes hiding, soon was forced t 

yield ; 
Then the hunter, gay and daring, kissed the maiden's 

face : 
" Captives mine, for ever ! Love — and Love's sweet 

hiding-pla 



138 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 



old age I am He ; 

"1 I carry 

I have made, and I will bear ; 

will carry, and will deiii 
(Isa. xlvi, 4.) 




And then with reverent hands she'll lay 
The Book for a little while away ; 
And in the peace of her quiet room 
Sit restfully thro' the twilight's gloom, 
Busy with thoughts that come and go, 
Like flitting shadows, to and fro. 

>"Even to her old age," ah! yes. 
She has proven its truth and tenderness ; 
She has known her Lord thro' her many 

years. 
She has trusted her Lord thro' hopes and 

fears ; 
She has felt His strength from her youth 

till now, 
When the hairs are ' ' hoar " above her 

brow. 



HE light is dim in the 
western skies, 

And dim the light in the 
aged eyes ; 
But the end of the chapter is so 

near, 
And the truths of the chapter 

are so dear, 
She must read to the close — till 

the light goes past. 
And life has vanished from day 

at last. 



He has borne her safely thro' floods of 

woe, 
He has made her daily His care to know, 
And her faithful heart, in its humble 

trust. 
Feels all He does to be wise and just ; 
For " ffe •wiU deliver,^'' come grief and 

pain. 
And after the clouds send light again. 

The dear Lord ruleth her life each day, 
And now when cometh the twilight gray 
He still will read with His tender eyes, 
So long as there's light in the western 

skies. 
To the end of the chapter ; then His breast 
Will give to the ransomed soul its rest. 



TO THE END OF THE CHAPTER. 



139 



lf'fS^.''>v|^'fliPf;''| 



HI *«!' 'J , ' 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




The Fipher'p Dauphtef^. 

^^[TITH the first faint streak of the day-dawn 
^^ She looks from her window's height, 
For the fierce, wild rage of the sea is past, 

And gone the blackness of night. 
With the first faint flush of the sunrise 

The tears in her eyes are dried, 
For she sees the sail of her father's boat, 

And over the distance wide 
Her h;art a welcome is sending, 

M iking her glad eyes bright ; 
" Thank God," she cries, " that he comes unharmed 

From the dangers of the night ! " 

Oh ! wild was the cruel tempest. 
And loud was the angry loar 



Of the midnight' storm and the giant waves 

As they lashed the lonely shore. 
And timid the heart of the maiden 

Who watched the long hours away. 
In dread lest the life she loved go out 

Ere the dawn of the coming day. 
" And, oh ! should I lose thee, father ! " 

She cried in her agony, 
" Nor joy nor gladness ever again, 

Nor safety shall be for me!" 

But now to the morning's breezes 

She gaily flingeth her fears, 
For the day-dawn shines on the spreading sails, 

And the cool winds dry her tears. 
No more she fears for the future. 

For ^''father" is close at hand, 
And all forgotten the night will be 

When she touches that father's hand. 

Oh ! what if we lose " Our Father," 

What if we lose His care ? 
What if we fail to watch for Him 

With never-ceasing prayer? 
What if the darkness hide Him, 

The darkness of wilful sin ? 
And the tempest Iseats, and the night grows wild. 

And our lives are black within .'' 
Oh ! what should we know of safety ? 

Where should we turn for rest. 
If never again in Faith we could lay 

Our heads on the Father's breast.'' 

Let us watch and pray till He coineth 

Safe out of the mist and rain. 
And out of the doubt that clouds our. hearts. 

To gladden our lives again. 
And we'll watch for the coming day-dawn. 

When clouds and sorrow shall rise. 
And the sight of the " Father " we long to see 

Shall dry the tears in our eyes. 



NOVEMBER. 




FROM GOLD TO GREY, 




STRAYING FROM THE PICNIC. 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




ft I^EJVIIJ^IPCENCE. 



•YTVENEATH the quivering arch of leaves, 
^ Where sunlight flickered through, 
While birds sang merry songs of love, 

Each to its mate so true : 
Where just below the mossy bank 

The laughing stream flowed by, 
We came with fishing-line and rod. 

My blue-eyed May and I 



Oh ! how her merry laugh rang out, 

Startling the birds above ! 
And I forgot the shining fish 

While whispering words of love. 
And how the sunlight, falling through 

The tangled web of green. 
Came dancing down to crown her head- 

My blue-eyed May — my queen ! 



A REMINISCENCE. 



145 



Ah, me ! we were so happy then ; 

So happy, she and I ! 
How could we dream that clouds would drive 

The sunshine from our sky? 
For I loved her with man's best love, 

And her true heart was mine ; 
And the dear truth I loved to read 

Used in her eyes to shine. 

But years have passed since then, and she 
Hath with them passed away ; 




And Nature smiles as merrily 

As on that happy day. 
The leaves, the birds, the bank, the 
brook. 

Their missions still fulfil. 
But tncDwry only cheers my heart 

And keeps its murmurs still. 



146 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 







\ \ 



The FLOWEf^ J\lip?iop< "'^ ^ \i\f|*^^v' V-ji' 






[fNTO the homes of sorrow and disticss 

The rare, sweet flowers go X.o Ijutl 

and l:loom, 

And with their own bright lives make glad 

awhile 

The lives that wither in perpctui 

gloom 




THE FLOWER MISSION. 



To these, the flowers on their mission go, 

And breathe a fragrance fraught with • new, 
sweet Hfe, 
And cause an atmosphere of joy and peace 

To enter e'en 'mid scenes of pain and strife 
Sweet buds of beauty ! how they seem to sa), 

" Cheer up ' cheer up ' there are kind heaits 
ind tLue 
And the ) our paths seem o\er^ro\\n with thorns, 

Yet hfe hath floweis jet m bloom foi > ou 



^■-s 



•\ thousand blessings on the kindl) hands 

Which pluck the fragrant flowers for the ^ 
poor ! 
A thousand blessings on the kindly feet 

Which falter not, but go from door to door''^ 
And leave, with tender, loving charity, 

The sweet, joy-breathing gifts of love divine ' 
Who knows what endless flowers of grace and 
truth 

The Flower Mission may hereafter twine ? 




148 



FJiOM GOLD TO GREY. 




ROBIN AND I. 




I^OBI^I AND I. 



^"mrvy^PC^ if I were a lady fair, 

^^\ Binding each day in my flowing hair 

Gems and jewels all rich and rare ? 

What if I owned my coach and four, 
To stand each day at my stately door, 
Or bear me in state my journeys o'er ? 

Ah ! but I couldn't have Robin then ! 
Robin, poor, but the best of men ; 

■iches lacking, himself were vain. 



And ric 



What -if my fingers, soft and white, 

Were flashing with diamonds' brilliant light. 

Dainty with gems so gay and bright ? 



Ah ! mine are brown with the summer sun. 
Hard with a toil that is never done. 
But Robin loves them — every one ! 

And if I wore dresses of satin sheen. 
Garments fit for a " dame " or queen, 
Why, Robin would know me not, I ween ! 

So my own two feet, I'm ready to say. 
Must be "coach and four" on market day, 
To take me o\er the roads awa)-. 

And the only gems for my waving hair 
Must be the beautiful sunbeams fair. 
Which Robin and I together may share. 



And this locket Robin has given me 
Holds the only gems that I care to see — 
The truest eyes that could ever be ! 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




WHO KNOirs? 



151 




IS2 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




FoF( THE Sake of Pe/.ce. 



BOB and I were playmates once, 
Together used to laugh and cry ; 
A youth and maiden are we now — 
Oh, dear ! the years so swiftly fly ! 
We used to play — at lovers, too, 

When we were children gay and free ; 
And now, the rogue, he seems to think 
That he should still my lover be ! 



I really can't make up my mind 

To quarrel with the foolish boy, 
For maybe, if he went away, 

My life would lose one-half its joy 
And if the question I should try 

To argue with him, why — you see, 
In argument, e'en when a child, 

Rob always got the best of me. 



So now what would you really do? 

Rob has a word for all I say, 
And, after all, my heart inclines 

To let him have his own dear way. 
Strange how persistent men can be ! 

What can a timid maiden do ? 
I think — ^just for the sake of peace — 

I'd hzXXsx— yield the point : don't you ? 



THE GOLDEN GATE. 



IS3 




The Qoldejm GIate. 



"trVEYOND the clouds the Golden Gate is waiting, 

Which only angel hands can open wide, 
And only they whose day of toil is ended 

Pass in, and find their rest at eventide. 
What may 7<.v know of all that there awaits 
them, 
Of joys which ne'er on earth their lives did 
fill? 
To them, and only them, is sol\-ed the mystery. 
Whilst we, with vision dim, must wonder 
still. 



Oh, Golden Gate, by angel hands so guarded ! 

Oh, Golden Gate that opens day by day ! 
What of the dear ones who, thy portals passing, 

Have faded from our earthly sight away? 
We read of realms of everlasting glory. 

Of fields where flowers bloom, nor fade nor 
die ; 
May we not breathe the fragrance of their 
blooming. 

E'en tho' they blossom far beyond the sky? 



Oh, Golden Gate, beyond the clouds now waiting 

Thou openest to let the weary in 
To where is only welcome rest eternal. 

And nothing more of earthly strife and sin 
Oh, life which lieth far beyond our vision ! 

Oh, rest eternal which our dear ones know ! 
Oh, Golden Gate which openeth into gloiy ! 

By faith we enter in, the' yet below. 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 







KANJMETTE'g i(OVEF(p. 



B ANNETTE stands out in the sunny porch, 
Her lovers fond to see ; 
She counts them all by the half a score, 
Vet no coquette is she. 
She has a smile for every one. 

For all a kindly viford, 
And, as she counts her lovers o'er. 
With pride her heart is stirred. 

Nannette no special favorite knows 

Amongst her lovers true ; 
She trusts full well their love for her, 

And well she loves them, too. 
Or black or white, she does not care, 

Or be they brosvn or gray ; 
She greets each one with a cordial hand, 

And waits their call each day. 

Nannette, Nannette, what spell hast thou 

These lovers fond to win? 
The dimples play at hide and seek 

About her cheeks and chin ; 
While to her eyes the answer flies. 

Straight from her heart so true : 
"Love calleth love !" she gaily says, 

" And wins what kind words woo.' 

So daily to her porch she goes. 

This sweet Nannette, to greet 
Her faithful lovers who have flown 
Her welcome smile to meet. 

And tho' she counts them by the 
score. 
Yet is she no coquette ; 
And of her flock, day in and 
out. 
Not one doth she forget. 







* 



N ANNETTE'S LOVERS. 



«ss 




'56 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




Qf^andma'p "ftutD l<ANq Syne 



/GRANDMOTHER GRAY by the window sat 
^ And looked at the setting sun, 
And watched the cows as they slowly came 
From the pasture, one by one. 



And back again to the long-ago 

Her memory travelled fast, 
While the dim eyes closed as she lived again 

'Mid scenes of the happy past. 



GRANDMA'S "AULD LANG SYNE.' 



IS7 



She was thinking over the youthful days 

When there by the pasture gate 
Young Robin, with milking-pail and stool, 

For her coming used to wait. 
Those days of courtship, tender and true ! 

How they thrilled her e\'en now, 
Tho' years had parted her love and her, 

And the hair above her brow 

Was white with the winter of life. "Ah, well!' 

She murmured, '' the morn was bright, 
-Why should I grieve that the clouds hang low 

With the coming shades of the night ? 
For Robin and I, as man and wife. 

Were ' lovers ' for many a year. 
And we're ' lovers ' still, tho' he dwells above. 

And I am yet waiting here. 



" The good Lord knows that it seems full long 

Since He called my Robin away ; 
And He knows that I am weary and old. 

And would fain go any day 
To meet the heart so tender, so true, 

Which waits for me over there. 
Where life is always young, they say. 

And skies are forever fair.'' 

There came a time when the sun went down, 

And the cows came slowly home, 
As Grandmother Gray by the window sat, 

While her thoughts seetned still to roaiTL 
But the angels came for her waiting soul 

While the twilight shadows fell, 
And beyond the stars dear Grandma went. 

With " Robin " in joy to dwell. 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




THE WINTER OF LIFE. 



1 59 




The summer joys long since were past, 

And winter's snows were o'er us ; 
The twilight sky was cold and drear, 

And night was just before us. 
But though the way so weary seemed, 

Yet John and I were merry ; 
For said I not that home was near ? 

And hearts and thoughts grew cheery. 



And thinking o'er that walk to-day — 

When John and I together, 
Side close by side, came down the road, 

All thro' the frosty weather^ 
I think of how, life's journey trod, 

With trust forsaken never, 
We've nearly reached at night that home 

Where dwelhlk rest Jonvcr. 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




THE ARTIST'S PORTFOLIO. 




The ftf^Ti^T'3 Portfolio. 



IP^ULL of "dainty bits of colour,'' 

" " Random sketches " here and there, 

Reminiscences of travel. 

Idle wanderings everywhere ; 
Scenes at home and " 'cross the water," 

Scenes of village and of town, 
Mother Earth in robes of summer, 

Or in autumn's suits of brown. 



Here, a castle by the river ; 

Here, a cottage on the lea ; 
Both awakening some sweet secret 

Half asleep in memory ; 
Meadow lands with grasses fragrant. 

Peasant scenes 'neath skies of blue. 
Side by side with dear home pictures. 

To the wanderer's heart so true. 



So they gather there together. 

Each with history of its own. 
Till the well-beloved portfolio 

Overfull of gems has grown. 
Dear they are to our young artist, 

Children of his well-loved art ; 
Of his cares and of his pleasures, 

And his artist-life a part. 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




JVIy JL^ittle Flowei^. 



^^JTHAT do I do for a living, you ask, 

^^ As the days and weeks go by ? 

We gather the flowers and bring them to town, 

And sell them, my baby and I. 
Yes, baby helps me, young as she is, 

For there's never a day or an hour 
I fail to rejoice in her innocent love. 

And I call her my sweetest flower. 

Our home is only a cottage small 

Outside of the city line ; 
But poor as it is, we get our share 

Of the beautiful summer shine. 
And I gather wild flowers at early morn 

To sell to you, ladies, here, 
And we earn our living right merrily so, 

I and my baby dear. 



Yes, ladies, the daisies are white and fair, 

And I love all flowers that grow. 
But there's never a flower upon the earth 

Like my little flower — I know. 
She holds the violet in her eyes, 

The rose in her cheek so fair, 
And the heart of the daisy, you can see. 

Lies warm in her golden hair. 

So, poor indeed tho' our lot may be 

As the days and weeks go by. 
No happier people ever were found 

Than we — my baby and L 
Oh ! summer may spread over hill and olain. 

Full lavishly hour by hour, 
Her treasures of bud and of blossom, but I 

Hold ever — the sweetest flower. 



THE HAY-FIELD. 



1S3 



The Hay-Field. 



/^H ! the charm of a summer day, 

^ And a jolly ride for a load of hay ! 

How the children shout and sing, 

Till the very fields with their music ring ! 

Down the lane, where the stately trees 

Rustle and bow to the merry breeze ; 

Past the brook, where the timid trout 

From his hiding-nook peeps warily out, 

To the meadow gate, where the bars swing wide 

To let the creaking old cart inside. 

Then, pile it in — the fi'agrant hay. 

Pile it in on the summer day ; 

Fill the cart till it overflows. 



And on and on thro' the meadow goes 

From mow to mow, till the work is done. 

Now is the time for the children's fun ! 

Out again with the wagon-load. 

Swinging and swaying along the road. 

Bound for the barn where the doors stand wide, 

With the sentinel maples at its side. 

" Gee ! Gee-haw ! " " Now, youngsters there. 

Hold hard, keep steady! So, have a care!" 

And without a tumble, a bruise, or fall, 

Horses, hay-cart, children and all. 

Are safe on the old barn's grain-spread floor. 

And grandpa knows that the fun is o'er. 




164 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




^WHE shadows of winter, so chill and so gray, 
— Have passed from the meadows and hill- 
tops away : 
There's a shine in the skies 
Born of Spring's merry eyes. 
And the heart of the Earth groweth softer each 
day. 

See, how she releases from fgtter and chain 
Her treasures which spring into freedom again, 

Till with beauty and bloom, 

And with sweetest perfume, 
Is filled every hill-side and meadow and lane. 



But fairest of all things that blossom and grow. 
Sweet as the summer, and pure as the snow, 

Is the lily that tells, 

Like the glad Easter bells, 
Once more the sweet story which all hearts should 
know. 

Bloom out, fragrant lilies, bloom brightly and fair. 
Breathe out your pure breath on the soft balmy 
air ; 

Fling your banners so white 

Gaily out to the light. 
For past is the lenten of sorrow and care. 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




THRO' THE FIELDS. 



■67 




■^U-4.n^y ^ .*.:*«#'<► 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




AT THE COTTAGE DOOR. 



169 



But now my love stands at the door- 
Oar cottage door — at eventide, 

With eager eyes to wait for me, 
As home I hasten to my bride. 



And tho' I come, or tho' I go, 

Her form I first and last behold. 

Ah ! happy cottage home ! where I 
My love may evermore enfold ! 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 



The FigHERjvi/N'g 3o)Mq. 

[Chacun d son gouL) 



'^OU may sing of your merry maidens, 
— Sing praises from morning till night, 
And eagerly tell 
Of the magic spell 
That lurks in their eyes so bright ; 

You may boast of their subtle power, 
And rave o'er their ways so sweet, 

And you may abound 

In logic too sound 
For a man of ;«_y speech to meet. 



But — /'// cling to my rod and my tackle, 
And follow the winding brook. 

And the praises / shout 

Shall all go for the trout, 
As i/tey cling to my dainty hook. 

Show me beauties, I ask, more bewitching 
More lovely to sigh for than they, 
As they gracefully glide 
Thro' the streamlet so wide 
In the shine of a glad summer day. 



To woo and to win ikem, believe me, 

Is ever my ardent desire, 

And no need hath my heart 
For a touch of Love's dart. 

And I scorn the flame of Love's fire. 




(^•ji^ '^^S''^ ~ 



THE FISHERMAN'S SONG. 



~ ^ 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 











-H ■ 



7L " • ft. 







IFOMJN'S 'N.iV: 



173 




A " Wo^iAf^'3 'Kay.'" 

OFFERED hand and heart and self 
To somebody — a wilful elf — 
Who heard me through, then turned away, 
And answered with a scornful " Nay ! " 
In vain I strove to plead my case ; 
No gentle pity touched her face, 
As listening with polite surprise 
She turned from mine her careless eyes. 

Love driven back within my\ breast. 
Pride volunteered to do the rest ; 
I ceased to argue and implore, 
And vowed to trouble her no more. 
Then, lo ! the maiden's cheeks grew red. 
And downward drooped the haughty head, 
The sweet lips lost their careless smile. 
And quivered as I paused the while. 

A sudden hope within me grew — 
I dared to think her heart was true, 
E'en tho' her lips, for mischief's sake. 
Had tried my proffered heart to break. 
Just what I whispered — never mind ! 
But she — she answered, " Men are blind ! 
When will they learn a woman's 'Nay' — 
By dint of coaxing— turns to 'Veal'" 




FROAf GOLD TO GREY 

AuqupT Day?. 

^" HESE are the soft, delicious August days, 
^^ Which so enwrap themselves in tender haze. 
And peeping thro' the mist with dreamful eyes, 
Turn golden 'neath the glow of August skies. 
The passing breeze stops lazily to play 
With every leaf and flower on its way ; 
Borrows the perfume from its playmates sweet, 
Then dies, to make the August day complete 




I rest me idly 'neath the branches spread. 

Like strong protecting arms, above my head; 

While memory paints a picture fair to see, 

And sings an old-time melody to me. 

Only a song which tells of 16ve and truth. 

In days when all things blossomed bright for youth. 

When timid hearts, by tell-tale eyes betrayed. 

Grew bold at last, and earth a heaven made. 

And then, ah, me ! as if but yesterday. 
Our parted lives went each its chosen way. 
I see the pale, grave face, the saddened eyes 
Tear-dimmed, yet blue as were the happy skies. 
I hear the voice, low-toned, with grief suppressed ; 
I hear the long-drawn sigh which shook her breast ; 
And, ah ! I feel again the weight of woe 
Which hid my summer 'neath the winter's snow-. 



AUGUST DAYS. 




176 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




^NLY a landscape, beautiful with the grace of a summer day, 

And bright with the glow of the sunshine over the fields at play. 
An old bridge, sheltered and guarded by many a stately tree, 
Whose leaves with the summer breezes are fluttering merrily. 

White daisies cover the greensward, and golden buttercups lie 
Where clover blossoms are growing under the azure sky. 
There are bees in the fields and pastures, and butterflies on the wing. 
And many a nest in the tree-tops where birdlings are learning to sing. 

There's a meadow-slope in the distance, where cows are browsing all day, 
And a brook thro' ferns and wild grasses merrily coursing its way. 
Think not my picture was painted for silent gallery walls. 
Where only thro' guarded windows the sunlight charily falls : 

Ah, no ! for I stand in my doorway and breathe the fragrant, free air. 
And hark to the sweet sounds of nature while viewing my picture so fair ; 
Its beauty can never be bounded by frame. of ebon or gold. 
And the scenes so gladsome to look at never grow weary or old. 



'Tis a beautiful, beautiful picture which nature has painted for me, 
And my heart will borrow its sunshine, scattered so joyous and free. 
Only a landscape, brimming with the peace of a summer day, 
And bright with the joy of the sunbeams over the fields at play. 



WILD FLOWERS. 



177 



Wild Flower^. 

(The Wayside Sermon.) 



rND the flowers preached their seniion 
By the wayside — sweet and fair, 
Breathing out tlieir subtle fragrance 
On the Sabbath morning air. 



All above the skies were tender, 
Robed in shade of softest blue ; 

All below the fields were radiant, 
Clothed in summer's fairest hue. 

And a sacred peace seemed brooding 
Over nature's gentle face ; 

Gone, the scars of week-day labor, 
Gone, and left no sign nor trace. 




Silent eloquence, yet speaking 
With a truth that entered in 

Human hearts long careless, striving 
All too lightly against sin : 



Opening eyes perchance long blinded 
To the gifts of Heaven's love. 

Till our thoughts at last were lifted 
In the homage due above. 

And we echoed then the praises 
Breathed upon the summer air. 

Giving glory to our Maker, 
With the wayside flowers fair. 



178 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




ON THE OCEAN. 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 



flxPECT/JMCY. 



*ff GOLDEN stretch of sunshine lingering crowns 

~ The hill-top, and across the meadow lies, 
As if the fading day would leave the earth 

Its kindly benediction ere it dies ; 
While homeward to its own leaf-hidden nest 
On eager wing the bird above me hies. 



Upon my head the sunset's glory falls, 

And at my feet the golden glow is shed ; 

I lift mine eyes, and see the fleecy clouds 

Around the fading day their beauty spread ; 

And Nature, sweet and fair, is hushed awhile. 

And graver grows when Day at last lies dead. 




I linger still beneath the changing skies, 

Nor homeward turn my face, because of one 

Who knoweth I am here, and whose swift feet 
His eager licarl hath long ere this outrun. 

" I will be there," he said, " so wait for me ; 
I will be there, dear love, at set of sun." 



So I will wait beneath our trysting-tree 

Until the stars come out ; nor will I then 

Grow weary of long waiting, for my heart 

Will whisper o'er his fond command again. 

And we will wait and trust, my heart and I, 

Nor dream of such sad things as doubt or pain. 



THE OLD RUINS. 



The Old I^uijm^. 



IF ye could speak ol 1 rums 
That rise m stitely pile 

As tho ye longed to buist the poner 
That ye poibessed erewhile 
If ye could tell the grandeur 
Of the old diys long past 
Ere Tine with his destroying touch 
Came ruthlessly anc fist, 




To level all the glory 

That clung to your proud walls — 
Ah grand h oi 1 1 be the story 

Of those ancestral halls 
What tales of high born maidens ' 

What tales of Cavaliers ' 
What comedies ani tragedies ' 

What tales of hopes and fears ! 
What stories, too, of triumphs, 

And tales of wrong and right ! 
What histories of the clouds of life, 

And of its joys so bright ! 
But solemn is the silence 

That reigns about you here ; 



Your secret hides in the deep heart 

Of the old forest drear. 
And Peace is ever brooding 

Above your crumbling walls, 
And heaven's sunshine dances thro' 

The space of vanished halls. 



lS2 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




THE SUMMER CHORUS. 




liJ4 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




HEARING THE HARBOR. 



185 




But true to their mission thy sunbeams came 

To flood it with gladness o'er ; 
And I hfted mine eyes to heaven, 

From whence thy gladness sprang, 
Till my heart grew soft with my grateful tears, 

And my spirits joy-bells rang. 
And I thought — how like the ocean 

Is life and its seasons long ! 
How smooth at times, and again how rough 

With storms that are long and strong ! 
We lade our ships so fully. 

And send them out to sea. 
But only God in His wisdom true 

Can tell what the voyage may be. 
So I send my prayers to heaven — 



Like white-winged ships they hie 
With hope and faith, thro' boundless space. 

Far up to the distant sky. 
Shall I let my doubts go after 

To wreck them on the way? 
Ah, no ! God grant that my trust in Him 

Grow steadier day by da)-. 
And soon, when the shadows of twilight 

Fall over the sea of life. 
My heart shall safely at anchor rest, 

Free — free. from all care or strife. 
And swift with the spreading darkness 

My ships will come in from sea, 
And crossing the sunset's golden gate, 

For ever in "Harbor" be. 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




4^ n. 






I " 



"Iv 



' — "s. 



..*■« 
















f ^ bonny boat 

'■^ JJi_'!«' Uoes and returns each day, 
^^g| ~ O'erloaded with its human freight, 
^^ The old, the young, the gay. 

"^. The boat is strong, the water's clear. 
The journey is not long. 
The skies o'erhead are soft and blue, 
And the boatman's arm is strong. 

Would that adown the stream of life 
All barks might safely glide ; 

But the other shore is far away, 
And the river between is wide. 

Some days the skies are overcast, 
• Some days they ate glad and blue. 

Some boats are wrecked on the cruel shoals 
Ere the journey is half-way through. 



And others weather the sudden storms, 

And steer from the rocks away. 
And out of the darkness of their fears 

Sail into the perfect day. 
But need we fear, when we think of it ? 

For whether the way be long. 
Or whether the waves be smooth or rough, 

The arm of the Lord is strong. 

And trusting Him, we may surely hope 

That, all in His own good way. 
He will take us over the waters deep. 

And at Life's soft twilight gray, 
Still bear us on thro' the darksome hour 

Of night, and its shadows drear ; 
Till we step at last on the other shore, 

Where there's naught of care or fear. 



DOWN BY THE BROOK. 



i8r 



DOWJM BY THE Bf(OOK. 



IT^OWN by the brook went Effie and I, 
^ Down by the brook 'neath the forest trees, 
When the air with the breath of flowers was 
sweet, 

And the long grass swayed in the summer 
breeze. 
The brooklet danced in the sunbeams bright. 

And murmured its own sweet song of glee ; 
While over our heads the merry birds 

Were filling the air with melody. 



Ah, well ! I wonder if ever now 

Her thoughts go back to that dear old 
time 
When under the trees alone we walked, 
^ Hearing the ripples' dreamy rhyme ! 
And, dipping her hand in the waters bright, 
How lazily she with the ripples played. 
While the dimples hid in her soft, fair cheek 
As I watched her there 'neath the old elm's 
shade. 



Alas for the vows we plighted then ! 

Her heart was fickle, and mine— was strong ! 
And the love she gave on that summer day 

Lasted — only the summer long ! 
Down by the brookj 'neath the grand old trees, 

Effie and I no more may go, 
And only the birds and a lonely man 

May hark to the ripples' dreamy flow. 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 




YES, summer is at hand, I know, but on my breast 
The cruel frost and winter's snow seem still to rest ; 

How strange it is ! When all the earth was cold and drear, 

Then I grew warm with love's sweet birth ; 'twas summer here 

Within my heart — a season all my very own : 

I quite forgot that leaves could fall, and winds make moan. 

Nor storm nor cloud I heeded then, nor wintry skies, 

For, ah ! I found my sunshine when I sought the eyes 

Of him who made my summer-time in winter's reign, 

Only to turn the joy-bells' chime to notes of pain. 

For now, as earth grows fair and green, my heart turns gray. 

The blossoms of its summer sheen — faded away. 

Does it touch h-m, I wonder, too, this chilling frost? 

Oh ! woman's heart so strong and true, tho' love be lost 

To thee, be faithful unto death ! 'Twill not be long 

Ere summer's shine, and winter's breath, blot out the wrong. 



THE CHANGED SEASONS. 



189 




FROM GOLD TO GREY. 



ONE DAY'S PAGE IN HER DIARY. 




igs 



FROM GOLD TO GREY. 



/•... 







Ij^ WOODLAJMD ^HADEp. 



^^ HERE are blossoms in the garden, sweet and fair ; 
toV There's a sense of wondrous sweetness in the 

And the meadow grass is swaying, the fickle breeze 
obeying, 

And the daisies rear their white heads everywhere. 

There's a twittering in the tree-tops, when the earth 

Rejoices at the morning's glorious birth. 
As the little birds awaking, their leafy nests forsaking. 

Fly hither and fly thither in their mirth. 



And the bees about the buttercups fly round 

On lazy wings, with humming, droning sound. 
As they gather in the sweetness of the summer day's 
completeness, 

Where the fields with clover blossoms most abound. 

There are fleecy clouds above me soaring high, 

Lightly, lazily across the azure sky : 
There are shadows shifting lightly as the sunbeams follow 
brightly. 

And the day in peaceful beauty passes, by. 



But the sweetest of all sweetest melody 

From within the grand old forest comes to me ! 
'Tis the woodland brooklet gliding beneath the trees, half hiding 

The while it ripples out its song of glee. 

And when day is done, the distant evening bell 

Rings out, while echoes soft the sweet tones swell ; 
Till the stars, their bright watch keeping, from shadowy skies are peeping, 

And silence comes at last with us to dwell. 



